Blood-Stained Memories
by bs13
Summary: AU. Every year, 24 teenage boys and girls who suffer some sort of mental problem are taken and placed into a rehab center, never to be heard from again. When Katniss Everdeen takes her sister's place, she comes to realize that there is more to the rehab center than they are being told, and even more to the boy who was taken with her. (Evellark)


**I was plagued by this idea and then I wrote it...and I can't do it justice, so, forgive me.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Song for this chapter: Disasterology by Pierce the Veil**

* * *

When I open my eyes, I see only darkness and hear only the wind. The cold wind is howling a warning, and the thins walls of our house provide little support against the sound or the cold. I exhale tightly, feeling the cold deep in my skin, and I try to tuck the blankets tighter around my sister so she won't be cold. While I intend to give her a more comfortable sleeping space, I wake her up while doing so.

"Katniss," comes Prim's soft, sleepy whisper. "Are you awake?"

I reach out into the darkness, my fingers stroking her soft curls. "Yeah, I am. Go back to sleep."

She breathes lightly as she snuggles closer into my side. "Okay...but you have to sleep, too."

I smile even if she can't see it. "I will."

Satisfied, Prim drifts off to sleep, and I can tell she's asleep again when her breathing falls back into a normal, soft pattern. I stroke her hair absentmindedly as I stay awake, staring into the darkness that surrounds us.

It's oddly peaceful tonight.

The darkness is giving me a newfound peace that I hadn't noticed before. I've never really been afraid of the dark; I have always embraced it. Here, with Prim, the darkness and I are in touch with each other. It hides all the bad that is our house, and it keeps us safe from the outside world at the same time.

Prim begins to shiver.

At first I tug the blankets around her and hold her tighter to me, fearing the cold wind is beginning to bother her more than it bothers me, but as she continues to shiver excessively and even whimper, I know that something's happening.

"Katniss!" Prim's voice comes out straggled, and her fingers grip my shirt tightly. "Katniss, no!"

"Prim?" I shove her away from my body and take her by the shoulders. "Prim, wake up."

"Katniss!" Prim starts to sob.

I shake her as gently as I can. "Prim. Wake up."

"K-Katniss...where are you going?!" she wails further, and I shake her more roughly.

"Prim!" I call as loudly as I dare. "Prim, it's alright. You're here now, and it's alright."

Prim gradually stops trembling under my fingers. Even if I can't see it, I know she's opened her eyes by now, as she exhales shakily and wraps her skinny arms around my torso. "K-Katniss."

"It's okay," I whisper. "_You're_ okay."

Prim's tears begin to wet my shirt. "Y-you were _dying_."

I run my fingers over her hair. "I'm right here. Don't worry."

"I was so scared," Prim cries, and she buries her face into my shoulder. "So..._alone_."

Her last words pain me more than anything else does. "You're not alone. You have me."

Prim sniffles. "And Mom?"

"And Mom," I agree, even if I don't believe that. "And that hideous fleabag, too."

That prompts a giggle from Prim. "Buttercup is _not_ a fleabag."

"Could've fooled me," I retort, and Prim's giggling again. As she relaxes in my arms, now content and laughing, I release a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

She's okay. Tired and afraid, but okay.

I feel her warm body curled into mine all of a sudden, and I feel the way her body moves in time with her soft, patterned breathing, and suddenly sleepiness is dawning on me. As I slowly close my eyes, yawning just the slightest, I promise myself that everything is going to be okay.

* * *

When I wake up in the morning, I realize that I'm wrong.

Prim is out of bed. She never leaves without waking me, because she enjoys the feeling of satisfaction she gets when she annoys me at an ungodly hour, so her being gone means that something has happened.

"Prim?" I call her name as I slip out of bed, my feet touching the cold wooden floor hesitantly. I push the room's door open, making it creak. "Prim?" I venture into the kitchen, and I find that Prim is on the floor by the fridge, curled into a ball, her fce ashen and her mouth forming words that are no doubt fearful.

I bend down and gently uncurl her. "Prim?"

She shakes her head.

"Prim, get up," I prompt, but my little sister shakes her head again.

"It's mom," she whispers at last, her blue eyes teary as she gazes up at me. "I dreamt..."

"It's okay. It was a dream," I assure her.

Prim wipes at her cheeks. "No it wasn't."

"Prim..."

"She's doing it again!" Prim bursts into tears. "S-she won't let me help her!"

My stomach turns cold. "You mean she's-?"

Prim nods through her tears.

I slowly let go of my little sister and hurry into my parents'- well, it used to be my parents'- room. Mom isn't in there, so I hurry to the bathroom across the hall and try the doorknob. Of course it's locked, which makes my heart speed up more than it already has.

"Mom," I call, trying to keep my anger condensed. "Are you in here?"

Of course there is no reply, but then I hear a loud sob from the kitchen which makes me lose all patience. She can't do this. Not to Prim. I start to bang on the door. "Mom, open the door right now!"

Silence.

Prim's small, dainty steps come hurrying to where I am. Her facial features are tight and her lips are a thin line. In a small, worried voice, she asks, "Is she okay?"

I look down at my worried little sister, and my heart breaks. "I- I don't know."

Prim looks down, and she's trying hard not to look disappointed. "Okay."

That one word hurts me. She's already getting used to this disappointment, and she's becoming okay with it. I gently place an arm around her shoulder and say, "Don't worry. Mom will be okay."

"What if she isn't?" Prim asks softly.

I hesitate before I reply with, "Then it's still going to be okay."

Prim nods- just once, and very slowly. "I'm sorry, Katniss."

I run my thumb over her tear-stained cheek, feeling bad all of a sudden for having no clue what to do about this. "I'm the one who's sorry, Prim. You deserve a lot better than this."

Prim clutches my fingers desperately. "But I'm not helping, am I?"

"There is nothing you are doing wrong," I say as fiercely as I can muster, but my voice wavers. It's wrong that I have to say this to her. "Mom isn't doing anything because of...because of you. That's just how she is."

Prim exhales. "Okay."

"Then you understand?" I ask.

"I think so," she says.

"Good." I pull her into my arms, and she clutches my body desperately.

"Katniss?" she whispers into my shirt.

"Yeah?" I reply cautiously.

"Can we go see Rory?"

I relax as the change of subject, which means she's willing to let it all go. "Yeah. I'll take you."

Prim smiles, and her once-sad face melts into happiness as she pulls away from our embrace. Rory is her best friend; of course he makes her happy. When she can't confide to me, she always confides to him. It's always good to know she has someone like that. In fact, she probably wants to talk to him about everything that happened.

Prim leaves to get dressed, and I am about to follow, but I linger behind and place a hand flat on the bathroom door, prepared to say one last thing. The anger I feel bubbles up in my chest, but I let it slip through and instead I calmly say, "You don't deserve her love, you know."

There is still nothing but silence.

"Katniss! I need your help!" calls Prim, and I step away from the door, away from the anger.

Away from the mother who I cannot call my own anymore.

"Coming," I call back, and I push open the door to our room. "Did you lose your hair ties?"

"...Maybe," she admits with a bashful smile, and I grin back as I take out my own hair tie and tie her hair into a braid. She usually likes two braids, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

"There you go. Just get dressed," I say, and I head to get my own things.

Prim mutters an affirmative statement as she starts to gather some clothing articles. Watching her gingerly step into clothing that is slightly big for her, I sigh a little bit to myself. She's living a bad life, being here with a depressive drug addict like her mother and a sister who can't scrape up enough money as it is.

I turn away because the sight of her is making me pessimistic.

When I get ready, I get ready as quickly as I can. Since Prim has my hair tie, I comb through my hair with my fingers and leave it down. I also trade the clothes I have slept in for clean ones, making sure to tug on my usual jacket and boots. Prim once said she's never seen me go out without either, and she's usually right.

"Let's go, Katniss," says Prim as she's done, and I mutter some sort of agreeing word as we leave.

The wind isn't howling like it was last night, and instead has simmered down to a mile breeze. The air is still cold, however, and our breath comes out in little white puffs as we breathe heavily. Prim keeps her arms wrapped tight around her body to keep warm, and I stuff my hands in my pockets- it's how we deal with the winter.

When we reach the small clearing, we spot the dingy-looking house that is our destination. It could almost be identical to ours, except that our house is smaller, and less clean as well.

Prim's hand goes to my elbow, and I look down at her and smile, only to find that she's smiling back. Her smile is so innocent, and her face so happy, that something hurts me even more. Taking my hands out of my pockets, I intertwine our fingers and hope desperately that I won't ever have to let go.

At the door of the dingy house, Prim eagerly knocks with her free hand. The door opens just the slightest and a tall, olive-skinned boy with dark hair peers out and stares at us, only saying, "What's the password?"

Prim giggles. I roll my eyes.

"Very funny, Gale," I say, and I let go of Prim's hand and push open the door myself. Gale falls back, faking hurt, but he's laughing too and it's not a big deal to him.

"Nice to see you too, Catnip," he says. "Hey, Prim, Rory's in the backyard."

Prim says a quick goodbye before she hurries out the back door, eager to see her best friend. Once she's gone, I turn to my own best friend, who has opened his arms to me. Without thinking, I step forward into them.

"It's been a hard morning," I whisper, and I feel him nodding against my shoulder.

"For you and me both," he says back just as glumly as he lets me go. "I've got quite the chance this year."

I stare at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Don't pretend you're stupid, Katniss. You know I what I have."

"That doesn't mean you have a chance of being chosen."

"Doesn't it?" Gale looks at me. "The guy last year had the same thing."

I fall silent a few seconds before I say, "Maybe they won't want the same thing twice."

"But maybe they will," he says, though he doesn't say it lightly. "How's Prim?"

"She's getting worse. My mom isn't helping," I say. "My mom might be getting worse, too."

Gale's shoulders fall. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It was bound to happen," I say.

Gale nods understandingly. "I just wish it wasn't like this."

"Well there's nothing we can do, is there?" I sigh. "At this point I hate living."

Gale chuckles dryly. "So we're living, then?"

I smile a little bit. "Hardly. I'm just hoping Prim gets somewhere far from this someday, you know? Not that there's anywhere to go. I'm really starting to wonder why my parents even bothered having kids."

"I don't know...shouldn't kids bring joy?" Gale tries, but I snicker.

"Watching kids being raised into a world full of fear doesn't bring joy." I pause just a second before I add, "That's one reason why I never want to have kids."

Gale looks down, almost pondering it. "I might. If I didn't live here."

I'm not sure how to respond, but I settle with a curt, "But you do live here."

Gale opens his mouth as if he's about to say more, perhaps argue for his claim, but then his mother, Hazelle, comes into the small living room with her smallest child, four-year-old Posy, attached to her hip.

"Katniss, hi," she says pleasantly. "I would have thought you'd be home right now."

"Prim wanted to stop by," I say. "How are you, Hazelle?"

Hazelle laughs a little. "Scraping by, but just barely. How are you, dear?"

"I guess the same," I say, and she smiles.

"Well, I won't bother you two. Getting some happiness on a day like this is rare." Hazelle then leaves, cradling Posy in her arms, who has just began to fuss a little bit. That is one thing that Hazelle is: blunt. I respect her tremendously for that.

Gale looks at me when she leaves, and he's about to open his mouth again, but then we hear the sirens. Gale's face is drained of blood, and I can only imagine how my face must look. I stagger over to the open back door, yelling out, "Prim!"

Prim and Rory come clattering inside, and their faces are fresh with terror.

"Yeah?" Prim asks shakily.

I hold out my hand. "They're early. We have to get home."

Prim hurriedly takes my hand. "Okay. Bye, Rory."

Gale looks at me again, and this time he just rests a hand on my shoulder. "Good luck."

"You too," I say, and I pull Prim out of the house.

Prim grips my hand tightly as we walk as fast as we can. When we reach the house, I expertly jiggle the lock to get it open since we don't have a key and shove Prim in first. As we close the door behind us, we both notice that our mother is standing there.

Prim doesn't speak, and I push her behind me almost defensively.

"I'm sorry," Mom says quietly. Her eyes are bloodshot and her face is sunken, but she doesn't appear intimidating by the way she shifts from foot to foot and wrings her fingers together nervously.

I stare at her for a while before I speak. "What?"

"I didn't mean to do...what I did," Mom clarifies. She steps closer, but then steps backward again.

Prim speaks up. "But...you did."

Mom falters even more than she already does. "I know. And I'm sorry."

I stare at her longer, now incredulous. "Do you expect us to accept your shitty apology?"

Prim's face is shadowed with worry. "Katniss-"

"No," I cut her off. "She can't lock herself away from you, cut herself, and then leave you having a panic attack in another room. That's a shitty thing to do, and saying sorry is _not_ going to make up for it."

Mom's face falls. "I know, but-"

"No, you can't say anything!" I snap. "You can't leave her, no matter what!"

"Katniss, it's okay," Prim cuts in gently, and she tucks her arms around her body as she looks at our mother in what can only be hope. "Mom isn't doing anything wrong. It's okay that she's apologizing."

I feel almost betrayed; whose side is she on?

Mom, as if sensing my hurt, speaks up. "Your sister is right, Prim. Saying sorry isn't enough."

I stare at her, and my face hardens. "It _never_ was, but that didn't stop you all those times before."

Mom looks away, ashamed, before she whispers, "I'm really going to try."

"That isn't enough, either," I say. "You have to stop doing this to yourself." My eyes goes to her bruised and bloody wrists. "What message are you trying to send here? That you want us to follow your choices? That we aren't good enough for you, and that's why you're trying to die?"

Mom's eyes are starting to fill with tears. "I love you- both of you. You know that."

"No, we don't know that," I say. "I don't even believe it by now."

"Katniss," Prim interrupts, and she's crying soft tears by now. "Please, let her apologize."

My anger fades slightly. "Prim, I-"

"It's okay, you know," Prim says through her tears, and she even scrapes up a smile. "She does loves us." She looks at Mom, and Mom nods through her own tears. "And we have to love her too. Everyone makes mistake sometimes."

"But who makes a mistake for three years?" I retort.

"Nobody's perfect," Prim replies.

I breathe in an exasperated sigh. "It's not healthy for you to assume that bad things are good, and that everyone is going to change. You can't accept someone when they've caused you pain, whether it's physical or mental."

"But we have to," Prim insists. "She's our mother."

I refrain from something that will hurt- like maybe "she's no mother of mine"- but even I don't like to cause my mother pain. I just want her to realize that self-harm and ignoring her daughter are not acceptable things to do.

"Mother or not," I say, "you need to know there's boundaries when it comes to people."

"I do know," says Prim quietly.

Mom steps closer this time. "Katniss...I _am_ sorry. You know that. And I'm really going to try this time. I promise. Just because your father isn't here"- here she takes in a deep breath- "doesn't mean I'm going to keep doing anything. I- I have everything I need with you girls. I don't want to die. Not really."

"She always stops before she does kills herself," Prim points out softly. "That has to mean something."

"Oh, great, let's give her an award for not being a successfully suicidal," I say sarcastically.

"Katniss..." Mom trails off there, pained.

"It's okay," whispers Prim, and she takes my hand. "Remember? We're okay."

I exhale. "I- I know."

"Forgiveness is hard," Prim goes on, "and it takes some time, but it's simpler than never facing things again. We can move on from this together, can't we?" Her eyes are so hopeful that I'm ignoring how mature she sounds, at least for the moment.

"Yeah," I say quietly. "We can."

Prim breaks into a smile, and she reaches out for our mother's hand, so we stand, connected.

"I'll go get...clean," says Mom lamely, and she looks at her bloodied wrists.

"I can help you," Prim offers, and she and Mom leave the room to go to the bathroom.

I don't follow.

I stand alone for a few minutes as I hear the sound of rushing water. I don't know what I'm supposed to do about this situation. All I desperately want is to keep Prim safe, and I even want my old mother back, but I realize that it's more than that. I'm just angry at my mother- angry that she shut out the world, angry that she shut us out, angry that she became suicidal.

I'm angry that I can't bring myself to stop caring.

Sirens which have been sounding outside stop in front of our house. Before I can fathom what this means, there is a sudden knocking at the door. My heart stops in itself- this can only mean one thing, and it's not a good one.

Fumbling fingers open the lock, and I come face to face with a strange woman. Her hair is a pink color and she's dressed like she's going to an awards show instead of the poorest part of town, all while beaming with flawless white teeth.

"Why, hello there," she says, still beaming. "I'm here for a Primrose Everdeen."

If my heart stopped before, it's now in shreds.

"It's time for a reaping, you see," the woman goes on. "She's been chosen to go to a special rehab center for specific reasons listed on her medical card." Her words are formal, but she says them breezily, like I should be thanking her.

"I see," I mumble dumbly, and that's all I can say.

"Katniss?" Prim's voice comes scared from our room. "Who's here?"

"So," the woman says, "where is Primrose Everdeen?"

"Katniss?" Prim starts to shuffle into the room.

I panic, because I can't let this happen. "That's me! I'm Primrose Everdeen!"

Prim comes to a dead stop at the doorway.

"Wonderful!" the woman gushes. "Come along, dear, we still have another person to pick up!"

"Katniss?" Prim's voice comes out shaky and hoarse.

"What is Katniss?" the woman asks. "Is that how you people greet each other?"

I refrain from rolling my eyes- are all rich people like this?

Prim steps forward.

I turn to the woman, desperate. "Please- I'm Primrose Everdeen. What do I have to do?"

The woman sighs in contentment. "Oh, you're the first who has ever come along willingly. It's so refreshing. Well, come come! There is so much to do until you're situated..." She trails off, though excitedly, and leaves.

That's when I notice the armed guards behind her.

One of them surges forward to grip my arm, and the whole scene seems to sink into Prim's head.

"No, Katniss!" she shrieks, coming to grip my other arm. "No, you can't go!"

I try to keep my voice steady as I say, "Prim, let go."

"No!" Prim is beginning to cry.

It's a good thing the woman who was here earlier isn't here now, because as Prim cries my real name and I cry hers, we doom each other. The man gripping my arm jerks me away roughly, and Prim has to let go, but she continues to reach for me.

"Prim, tell Mom," I say as evenly as I can. "Tell her...tell her she can't walk out on you." I'm shoved towards the door. "And tell Gale! Tell him to watch you and make sure you eat!" I'm almost out the door. "A-and Prim...don't worry!"

The door is slammed, and the last thing I hear is my little sister's muffled sobs.

"Miss Everdeen, this way," the man gripping my arms says, pointing me towards a black limousine. This is something that makes me angry- the fact that we are being taken to our deaths in a _limousine_.

The hand on my arm lets go, and the smiling woman from earlier comes back. Surveying me, she smiles once more and gestures to the limo, saying, "Here you are! We got only the best for you, you see."

So I get into the limousine.

One thing I wasn't expecting, however, is the man already sitting there. He is an older man, perhaps in his thirties, with dark brown hair and morning stubble on his face. I recognize him; I've seen him around town. Everyone has, because every knows this man.

He's the only surviving person to have left the Capitol.

"So you're the pick this year," he says when he sees me. His places a bottle to his lips and drinks, not taking his eyes off me as he does. It takes a minute for me to remember his name, but when I do, I realize that it's Haymitch- Haymitch Abernathy. "Might I say, sweetheart, you're not what I expected."

The smiling woman prods me forward, and I begrudgingly join Haymitch in this limousine. The woman then leaves us alone in there, talking about having a word with the driver, but I don't pay attention to her.

"Then what did you expect?" I ask curtly, and Haymitch snickers.

"Well, a twelve-year-old, for starters," he says, and that's when I realize I should have thought this through. "Don't worry, the people here are too thick to realize anything's wrong with you. In fact, they've probably burned all evidence of you by now except for your name and your supposed medical reason for being chosen. So, then, who are you?"

I hesitate. "I'm- Primrose Everdeen."

Haymitch laughs a low, echoing laugh. "Of course you are."

I'm about to argue angrily, but I refrain from saying anything except for, "I am."

Haymitch smirks beneath his bottle. "Yeah, I heard you, sweetheart."

Then we fall into silence- Haymitch because he's drinking, and me because I don't want to speak to Haymitch. In fact, I'm wondering why he's even here with me; shouldn't he be safe from the center now that he's left it alive?

The smiling woman enters the limousine now. "Great, we're starting off our drive."

"Thanks you, Effie," says Haymitch sarcastically. "What would we do without you? I mean, it's not like this car won't move or anything that will indicate the car starting. Oh, we're all very indebted to you for your noble sacrifice to tell us."

"Attitude," the woman snaps. "That kind of comment is not-"

"Good manners," Haymitch finishes, and then he smirks at her.

This woman- _Effie_- purses her lips, but she just enters the limo and lets the door close behind her.

The drive is awkward. Effie talks about how I'm just going to _love_ the Capitol, and Haymitch does nothing except scoff in places that Effie doesn't appreciate. In fact, I resolve to tune them out, not caring anymore. All I can think about is my sister and her mental health right now...

I'm really hoping that she's doing okay without me.

"Oh, good, we're here," Effie says suddenly as the limo starts to slow down. "It's time to pick up our next patient!" She says this all, by the way, in a manner that indicates she's excited. She then turns to Haymitch. "Shall I go in, or should you?"

Haymitch looks at her like she's crazy. "I'm not going to go in and tell this boy he's about to die."

Effie gasps. "Haymitch! How _dare_ you say such a thing!"

I ignore their bickering and instead direct my attention to the bakery we've stopped at. A feeling of apprehension fills my stomach, and even though I know it's not worth worrying over, I still hope that I won't have to ever see the bakery again.

It brings bad memories, and- even though I don't like it- one important memory above all.

"_I'll_ go," Effie says when I start to listen to them again. "He wouldn't want to see you, anyway!"

When she leaves- in a huff, too- Haymitch shoots me a look. "Figured out who you are yet?"

I don't answer.

After a minute or so he just laughs dryly and says, "Well, it's your life. Just remember that."

Then he takes another long drink from the bottle.

There comes the distinctive clacking of high heels a minute later, and then Effie throws open the door of the limousine with a flourish, a boy accompanying her. She beams at us- of course- and says, "Everyone, this is Peeta! Say hello to everyone, Peeta."

Something about the name makes me uneasy- horribly uneasy.

_Please don't be him. Please don't be him. Please don't-_

Effie moves aside to let the boy climb into the limousine, and he slides in, just a few feet away from me. I take in the sight of him: he's handsome, with eyes that shine a brilliant blue and hair that's sort of golden in the light, but his mouth it set into a thin line and it looks like he's struggling to hold in his breakfast.

_Of course it's him._

"Peeta," prompts Effie, "I'd like you to meet Haymitch and Primrose."

Peeta's eyes flicker to us. "It's nice to meet you both."

While Effie gushes about someone _finally_ having good manners, I meet Peeta's eye. He's studying me and I can tell; he knows who I am, so of course he's wondering why Effie is calling me Primrose. I'm thankful he hasn't said anything about it, but I'm worried that he will eventually.

"Haymitch, please accompany me out, won't you?" Effie says when she's done praising Peeta. "I must have a word with the driver about our conditions and our location, and I figure that these two would like to get to know each other! Wouldn't you like that, children?"

Haymitch laughs. "You're a fucking idiot, Trinket."

Effie's mouth falls open. "Excuse me? _Manners, _Haymitch, honestly_."_

Haymitch rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Let's go."

When they're gone, Peeta turns to me. I try not to look at him, because then it'd be like welcoming him to talk to me, but I finally do and I notice that he's shifted slightly closer to me. Up close, I notice that his eyes are red, perhaps from crying, and that makes me feel even more uneasy.

"Katniss," he starts, but he hesitates. "I mean...if you'll let me call you Katniss."

I ponder this, wondering how he knows my name, but I finally say, "I don't think that's a good idea."

Peeta nods slowly, and he bites his lip before he says, "Okay. So I call you Prim."

"Yeah." A pause. "Thank you...Peeta."

Another pause. "You...know my name."

I blink. "Yes...and you know mine."

"Oh, right- that woman introduced me," Peeta says as he remembers.

I slowly stare at him, wanting to say that I know him from before, wanting to thank him for before as well, but everything gets stuck in my throat and all I can say is a pathetic, "Yeah, she did introduce you. And her name's Effie." I add the last part not to be matter-of-fact, but as a quiet afterthought.

Peeta looks down, and I feel like I've said something wrong.

"You're brave," he suddenly says, and his voice shakes. "You're...you're doing this for her."

I don't appreciate the change of subject. "Yes, I did."

Peeta notices that my tone is sharper, and that's when he stops trying to talk to me.

I look down at my hands, which are sweaty and shaking. I hadn't even noticed that I was afraid, but I realize that of course it's true. Who wouldn't be afraid in a situation like this?

I am not afraid of death, however.

I tell myself this, and maybe it's true, or maybe it's not. The only thing I do fear is leaving Prim alone, because she hates being alone. My only condolence is that she has Gale. _Gale_...I didn't think it earlier, but I miss him now. Even if I don't want him _here_ with me, I want to be with him.

"Can I at least call you Katniss when we're alone?"

I look over at Peeta, bewildered. He's gazing at me with uncertainty, but with a hopeful look in his eyes. He isn't asking me this for me, but for himself. Maybe he wants something to hang on to- something that isn't an illusion, something that's real and that he knows.

I don't understand why he wants my name, though.

"Okay," I say softly, surprising him and myself as I answer positively.

"Okay," he echoes, but he smiles softly. "Thank you."

But I still look away from him, unsure as to what I am doing.

By letting him use my name, I'm letting him have the once piece of my life that is all I have left. From now on, I have to be Primrose Everdeen so that my sister can be safe, and my real name is never going to used again.

That's when I realize that I _do_ want Peeta using my name.

I want him saying it so that _I_ know it's real. I want him saying it because I want to know that it's there, because I know that it's mine, because I know who I am and who I used to be.

I want him saying it so I won't be alone, like Prim fears to be.

So I sit in silence, pondering this, when I see Peeta out of the corner of my eyes staring at me. He's not doing it in an intense way, or a way out of pity, but only because he seems content doing it. I'm wondering why this is when Peeta suddenly says something.

I look at him, not having caught it. "Did you say something?"

Peeta looks almost embarrassed. "No- no, I didn't."

I know a lie when I see one, but right now I just say, "Oh. Sorry."

Peeta says something back- probably something like "it's okay"- but I've stopped listening.

Haymitch and Effie are coming back, and that's all I can direct my attention to, because my fears suddenly come rushing back to mind. Being alone, leaving Prim alone, having to pretend to be someone I'm not...

My mind teases me then, running through the images of my mother's first bloody wrist, the image of my father's blood spilling on the ground, the image of my little sister sobbing when she has her first panic attack after cutting her hand and seeing our father's death in it somehow.

My mind, it seems, runs through all of my blood-stained memories.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! Please review if you can...**


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